To the Winner Go the Spoils
by Yuri the Eighth Demoness
Summary: We all know who the victor was. But what if the story had been different? What if it was Kaijō that met Rakuzan in the Finals. And what if Seijūrō Akashi had collected more than just the Winter Cup? {SEE Notes below for details as to HOW this exactly happened. HIGH NC-17 WARNING FOR RAPE. Please stay clear if uncomfortable.}


**NOTE:** _This is the practice writing short story I did during therapy. I knew my doctor had been surprised since I wrote yaoi of all things (lol) but I just let the words float and this came to be. It may not be at all perfect really since it's a spurt of a moment thing, but please do forgive my inconsistency. I am still getting back on my writing feet._

 _Anyway, expect to see more random samplers. I'm going to keep at this until I feel I am at that level again. I promise to get better even more. All's well with my sessions. And I am being closely monitored for relapses but thus far they have not happened so looks like I'll continuously be in the clear._

* * *

...It was _not_ supposed to have been like this...

We won against Seirin and faced Rakuzan in the Winter Cup Finals.

I had entered my Zone at the last minute and during that short span of time believed with the rest of my team that it had been the game changer we were waiting for. But the look on Aominecchi's face only proved that I had been dead wrong. That 'trump card' proved to be a fatal mistake. _Akashicchi_ as it turned out saw through it all and dominated the game, despite their victory getting obtained by only a few points' margin. They had gotten us in a bind and in the last minute took the win. Then in an unexpected twist, he not only asked for the trophy, the prestige, the bragging rights and the privilege of being the champions but he also...asked for _me_ in return.

* * *

...It was _not_ supposed to have been like this...

I was under the impression that _Akashicchi_ was joking at the start of it all. Ask for me as a part of what he has _won_? _He wasn't really serious was he?_ I had thought.

But he invited me over to Kyoto right after the match and despite my reluctance I was persuaded to go on account that it was after all _him_ , the _taichou_ of the Generation of Miracles. I had thought nothing of it until... well until...

It was strange. For him to be so bold the next when the opportunity presented itself. He had first started with just a few lines of compliments, gently taking my hand as he toured me about his gorgeous _home_ , in a _Yukata_ of all things, then beginning to confess rather fervently how he had been _obsessed_ with me since our schooldays at Teikō. How he had been watching my voracious growth from the sidelines always until such a time that to him I had turned into this glorious flower in full bloom, delicate to turmoil and sensitive to change, unlike those that had become of Aominecchi and the rest. Unlike what had become of Kurokocchi, his admitted _pet project_.

I could only laugh and grin awkwardly, putting on my usual face. I mean I had been confessed to before by both boys and men however I had not anticipated this and although flattered I was definitely unnerved.

 _Why me?_ That had been my question. _Why me?_ Had I initiated any form of action to instigate such motives?

Of all the Miracles and of all those that he had carefully sired over, what had it been in me that had caught his eye? I wouldn't know. But then I had rejected him as politely as I could and he all could not accept that, had suddenly grown impatient as he paced back and forth while I sat looking up, stating my denial of his feelings. What was I to do? I...had feelings I had not confessed myself for _someone else_.

Yet he knew no defeat. I should have remembered this well enough. That for him it was normal to have whatever it is he wanted and that apparently included even the likes of me.

So then he had resorted to something that was maybe uncharacteristic of him, but I should have at least seen the omen of, bore in mind at least that the current _him_ is capable of many things after all. Even _this_. Even something as _repulsive_ as _this_...

It was _not_ supposed to have been like this!

It should never have happened!

I was... _raped_ by Akashi.

* * *

Akashi had me away from everyone for a reason. He was already contemplating that if in case I had said 'no', he still would win his way in the end. He had left me no knights or lances, no generals to plead my case. And I had willingly put myself in such a position.

How stupid of me. Maybe Aominecchi was right all along. I was such an idiot. Always forced to the corner. I was a very gullible fool, perhaps flashing my smile to the worse people. To the worst amongst all my friends.

That first time he took me, it hurt, of course. Or rather that diminutive word would not suffice to explain how it felt. It was indescribable in terms. There was nothing pleasant at all about the feeling of getting violated by someone you never loved, the only sense cramping and numbing my form that of extreme pain. It was ringing in my ears. Held down by his impositions, I was scared beyond belief, such fear that I had never felt even once since we had been acquainted.

I only had the _highest respect_ for him, but he in return...he _disrespected_ me...

I trembled as his hardness corkscrewed into my bruised insides so violently I shook at each thrust. It had lacerated through, all the while as I bled and screamed for him to stop, cried at his ramming that seemed to go on endlessly, as he bit and marked his territory, my whole body trapped within the bonds by which he confined me to his will.

My body and soul seemed to swoon and ache. There was an immense torment that tore through me, throbbing in between my loins only to be engulfed by even more suffering, the endless thumping that stretched me taut and begging, arching and unable to get away. Fisting my hands until they too bled and numbed. His incessant lack of care painted my world red that day. He asserted himself upon me. That I had known the taste of someone else's manhood breaking into me. It was a relief to have lost consciousness then. But his words...they echoed without contest in my mind while my own awareness drifted away to the rhythm of his torture: my life would now change.

I was _his_. He had declared it and there was no sympathy by which I could contradict it!

I finally realized that I was nothing more than _that_ to him in the end. I was in a sense _his_ trophy, polished all these years. He was expecting it wasn't he? I was the spoils of the War of the Miracles, the one to writhe and pant as the sacrifice to further satiate this end that he had foreseen...

And after that the deal was done.

* * *

That morning, he walked up to me like nothing had happened between us, though I had sat in his bed crying the whole time, unable to feel much of my lower body, bleeding in places and scarred rather too deeply that I could not stop myself from trembling. But he with all his composure simply stood there and told me that I should get used to _it_. Told me that it would be a natural thing soon enough while I winced at those very words and hissed at the sudden stinging that assaulted me during those waking moments.

Hard to move. My skin was feeling the damp of the sheets that I knew to already be soggy from a mix of things...like blood, and sweat, and semen, and regrets, all the devious memories crawling up my spine. Had I known this would happen...had I known...

Kurokocchi had volunteered to go with me that day had he not? I had seen the tinge of worry on his usually inscrutable expression. As if he was aware that this might be. Why had I turned the idea down? Kagamicchi too but I told him not to. _It's okay_ , I had said. _I'm just going to visit the captain to help him celebrate._ It had not gone the way I envisioned it should. I had become his feast that night.

He had nothing with which he would blackmail me, Akashi promised. A gentleman, or was he ever the actor? I somehow am finding it difficult to believe that he had refrained at least from taking evidence of his crime when the look on his face told me that if I attempted anything, that if I wrenched myself out of his grasp now, I _will_ most definitely suffer, as those around me would. It all hung in the balance with I on one side of the scales.

He _will_ kill me, his eyes betrayed this of him at least. He will have his way and will make sure that _no one_ ever took me away from him, or if they would be able to, they'd have me _dead_ and in multiple pieces. The tone of his voice told me that I basically had no choice. That was the bottom line. All prettified by a myriad of flowery sentences that he was convincing me to swallow. I sobbed into his indifference and my own hopelessness. How had it ended this way?

"Why captain?" He never answered.

I began to feel unusually alone.

Faces came to mind in an onslaught but he had yanked me back to his reality with his cruel hand through my hair. After what had happened, I had no one or more appropriately, he will allow me no one. My heart would be his. My virtue and the freedom that he would likewise soon take away was just the beginning of it.

* * *

He spent the holiday break changing me.

I moved in rather involuntarily to his palatial home in Kyoto under some form of premise, my existence immediately received by an excess of luxury that I could scarce imagine. I even slept in fur. All pristine and white, and was given and dressed in all the finery I usually just put upon myself for work but never really went for in majority.

He bought me things, and was excessive to a fault, and said I could have whatever I wanted. All a cover. Like a salve to wounds that were beginning to fester inside. He knew I was unhappy, but this he had ignored of course. I was in his house. That was all that mattered.

So everyday I received gifts. Spoiled with flowers that ran one corner to the next of the room, the house. Also that he said I just needed to ask as I pleased, this fact whispered to me one night while I was being ravished by him, his form grinding down upon me before he had thrust right in, breaking me again despite my gagged protests.

His words were so sweetly spoken that I would have believed them, if only I had not tasted the acid before all of it. And if only he had not warned me all the more to _never_ ask for freedom. To _never_ ask to leave him. I will have to _die_ before that would be granted. It was to be the most forbidden thing.

He scared me more and more since I come to stay with him. He had become ruthless. And all I could do was cry in the quiet, my sobs unheard, falling to deaf ears and his cold, implacable heart. My concerns were as unnoticed echoes in such a beautiful expanse. I lived in a his lair of gold and yet...for all purposes it served, to me, it was but still just a cage. The stage of a sad existence. To be Akashi's lover. I felt disgusted. I felt trapped. I felt terribly lonesome.

* * *

He began managing my life, starting with my career.

I had flourished in a month or was that two under his care but even at work I was monopolized by him. I was always being hurried away, escorted after schedules and go-see's, keeping to privacy all throughout, the crew and photographers never the same people twice. An excuse. In reality it was all because I was not allowed to converse with anyone, let alone _be_ _alone_ with anyone. I was not allowed to tell them of me. Any suffering I had was mine exclusively.

I even had his _guard dogs_ watching my every move. I had never seen my friends nor teammates in such a long time that my memory somehow began fading about them. I had lost contact with everyone else except _him_. Even those that I cared for most, I was taken from that I doubted everyday if that me before all this was a dream, and this one was real.

His phone calls were the only calls I ever received. His texts were the only ones I read. I had no means, no outlet to reach anyone anymore. It was as if I had been suddenly isolated.

My heart sank further in.

I was deprived. I had began to become rather mad. My mind was somehow becoming warped! And then at his leisure I was always taken. Repeatedly engorged and torn by him, only his presence filled me literally and mentally every minute, his eyes observing me and drawing me in. Like poison. His gaze. It was heat I could not refuse.

I cried mercy at his lack of compassion although his lips had began to chant repeatedly the reason why he had placed me here, "I love you Ryōta...I love you….I _love_ you…"

I had never began to fathom it. I did not want it! This love was no love.

But against his expertise, I spasmed uncontrollably onto the bed where he had condemned me, all the while as I was being reminded until I had passed out in exhaustion, "You are _mine_."

* * *

Very often since I had found myself wandering his home's desolate halls, naked except for a wrapping sheet. Because why must I bother with clothes when he would tear it off in the heat of his passion? The dail that brought tears easily to my face.

I had found the corners comforting now, somehow. Where I would slump onto the carpet with the drapes keeping me twined as I would seek solace there for hours, not moving, just staring. Or to the bathrooms I would slowly make my way. Where he would search me out in the tubs and showers.

I had began to mindlessly scrub myself _clean_ until my skin was raw and scratched. As I would look bloodshot eyes up at him. As I would scurry to the farthest end away from him unconsciously.

"That isn't the way a model should behave," he'd scold me lovingly as if I was a child, only to then force his hands upon me again, dragging me out.

I could only whimper. I didn't want his touch. His touch was something I could not get accustomed to. The way they traveled all over my flesh, training me, seducing me. In vain I had called out. I reached for something else but my own hands would eventually end up being tied away. And what was worse was that I hadn't touched a basketball in a while. That strained me most.

I hadn't seen a court, a hoop, or played in the seeming eternity he had trapped me in. If he was intent on driving me crazy, he was succeeding.

* * *

One night I could not take it anymore and spat at him, like a feral animal that had been pushed to the edge, I growled and hissed. I couldn't stop it. I bristled. I couldn't take it anymore! He has to end this!

I'm not his toy! I am not his pet! I'm no trophy to be displayed like this! I am not even his friend anymore!

I felt utterly desperate. I wanted my life back.

"But what are you saying?"

I saw the devil in his eyes as he easily overpowered me unto the covers, thrown against the furs. Something he said that clung to me really well, that framed me so beautifully, if only I could see it. I began wailing then, screaming until my lungs gave out. I remembered thrashing to yank myself out of his grip, then just felt the sudden pain as his first real blows landed. They caught me off guard. His sadistic strength as he dragged me to reality once more. _His_ reality.

I had cut my lip and broken a rib in my efforts that day, coughing blood as he like a lover slid over my weakened body and cooed into my ear: "Ah see what you made me do. Your model's face is ruined. This will take a while to heal."

I knew what that meant. I would stay locked up in this place. Already I could hear the sound of nothingness and feel the cold chains wrap me.

 _NO!_

"You belong in my bed, Ryōta. You are _mine_ alone. My _King_ ," his kisses revulsed me yet I could not turn away, his tongue snaking in alongside his wants, the sudden lock of our lips suffocating me. He took his time before letting go, towering over my bruised and breathless form. My thoughts swam and reeled, yet I heard his voice clear.

" _You_ are _my_ King," he had declared again as he looked down upon me, grabbing my manhood and squeezing it until I begged him to let go. More blows falling and, this time, to those sensitive spots. I cringed and balled up into a heap as he continued to state, "My lap is your _only_ throne, do yo understand?"

* * *

I had stopped counting the days.

The hours had passed from one nightmare to another. I was bound down then fucked harder, his every purposeful movement calling out to me the things he had done. Raped repeatedly while held in such contradiction. I was made to suffer the humiliation of his desires and the endlessness of his avarice until I had no longer the power. I stopped to oppose.

With my sense of fear for my previous _captain_ renewed, I spread my legs for him wider, masturbated to his commands in such vulgar display, took him into my own mouth and tasted nothing but the awful bitterness, choking on it. I didn't want to not see daylight anymore. He will imprison me here. That scared me so much.

I know not how many times I had keeled over. But every time I woke up, he was there. All the ache that kept assaulting me, even following me into my dreams, was now made of him. Just him. My mind set to a stressful panic that was often triggered by these continuing acts. I resorted to even greater begging but the more I did so the harder he moved, the rougher he plowed into me.

Vaguely I recalled the hour he had finally decided to remove my bonds. I needed sustenance now, he said. I hadn't eaten in a long time, I was told. But what day was it? How long had he been abusing me? The room was dark. It was foggy. It was cold. I did not know.

I could no longer feel my wrists. My neck stung, the warm lines of tears falling down my cheeks never ceasing now. My stomach was already full of his cum and it ached terribly. Likewise my heart...my heart was already _dead_.

Had I accepted my fate? I dared not look at him anymore. I could not even say his name. I merely took what he offered without a word, tasting nothing, feeling nothing but this emptiness.

Then he said it.

"If you crave basketball so much," his voice struck a cord of fright in me that I cowered despite my injuries. I pulled at the sheets and grasped hard at them while I sought the farthest corner _away_ from his presence, as he sat on the edge while I sniveled to the other side. Not that it did much. I no longer felt any safety anywhere where he is. There was nothing of solace here anymore.

I had no words. They had also been ripped out of me. He would never hear me after all. He still spoke like nothing was wrong.

"If you crave basketball so much I will grant it to you, to be able to play again, since you seem to have _now understood_ this situation."

All I could see was the grin of hell, his face in the light of this darkness. I knew what he would say and for that my tears burst anew. I lamented. My fate ultimately drawn to this.

He had reached out a hand and tipped up my chin. I winced. By instinct I turned away but fled not, biting hard upon my lip until the cuts there bled again, fingers somehow nearly pulling the sheets apart. I convulsed, degraded, whimpered in fear. Feeling something ooze out of my own body and that sickened me.

He continued, "But under _my_ terms Ryōta. Under _my_ rules."

* * *

It had been the opening of a new school year. I had disappeared from the public scene for months and only the multiplying billboards and print ads would be seen of me. Under the spotlight of Seijūrō Akashi, I was a doll being dressed up, paraded like a show dog, then undressed again in the comforts of his own bed, to be sexed up senseless, drugged by the pleasure I was forced to accept and the pains I was made to endure.

The only saving grace was that I had been allowed basketball at least. But it was on his turf. By his rules. His orders.

I obeyed.

I had to.

It was as a favour to _him_ , it was mentioned, since his family had been a generous benefactor, although at the back of my head, I had wondered if anyone ever became curious as to why I had been transferred to Rakuzan suddenly? Do they seriously think it was all coincidence? A mere mocking of change? That I was being personally groomed by their regimen there, that should have been surprising.

Everything was still a blur to me though. Because despite being at school, he had not released me. His grip had only tightened. I stayed by his side always. He didn't trust even his own men around.

In a most furtive attempt to not get into trouble, I had become mute, only exchanging brief smiles and no more. I had become aloof. I had steered clear of the adoration of fans using his guard dogs to this benefit lest I displease him. A fine puppet I had become. In silence I mourned. What impression had I set upon others?

I had become someone else.

* * *

At the Winter Cup again, I had at last seen their faces. But how had I looked in the eyes of the other Miracles as I marched with Rakuzan to the lines? I wore their colour now. Least to say it was not to my approval but what choice had I? I had become cold myself. My tears already stopped falling. The only evidence I was still alive was the chill that kept running up my body as his small caresses drifted over my skin, and that persistent soreness between my legs and deep inside my ass that would not go away.

I could not meet their eyes. I felt unclean. So I kept my own gaze cast down.

"Careful that you do not spill our secret, Ryōta."

I know. I would not think of defying you, my cruel Emperor. Had I not ignored the look they had cast my way? My former teammates, Kurokocchi, Kagamicchi and most of all you, Aominecchi. I acted as if I didn't know them.

"Oi Kise! What happened to you! Why are you with Akashi's team!?" his angry words. I smirked bitterly. Nothing has changed perhaps but myself.

My _lover_ had already intercepted the conversation and had dragged me off, never to see them again perhaps maybe on the hard court. But he does not know does he? He does not know I had broken the rules...

One last time…

Somehow, I had thought really, perhaps it was worth the shot...

* * *

 _Kuroko had that look on his face, a frown he could not disguise that even the Aces of Tōō Gakuen and Seirin High had noticed, turning their attentions to him. In a sense, this has piqued the attention of the other Miracles and the teams there with them. They listened in somehow, gathering about closely._

 _"Hey Tetsu. What's with that face?"_

 _"Aomine-kun. Kagami-kun. We have to win."_

 _The redhead's brows creased questioningly. "What? Of course we have to, but I don't understand you…"_

 _The Phantom Sixth Man mirrored his expression with a seriousness right as he turned up to look towards the redhead's direction. His words were small but this time, everyone had turned to him in disbelief. Even the usually apathetic Shintarō Midorima had gaped at his words as if in complete astonishment._

 _"Kise-kun is in trouble. We need to help him."_

 _Aomine clarified, "Just what are you saying?"_

 _Kuroko roamed his sights to all of them and with a certainty and determination spoke, "Just now, Kise-kun said..."_

* * *

We were on our way out with the rest of Rakuzan, headed to the hotel almost immediately after the Opening Ceremonies. I had my suite of a _prison_ there waiting, where I would spend yet another night on penitence in the bed of my _captain_ who had taken everything away from me. Every ounce of dignity. Every shred of shame. Every semblance of what I was.

I get it okay? I know. I need not be reminded a million times over. He _owns_ me now. My body already trembles and sways to his whims. How could I deny that I have not already been enslaved by him?

"Kurokocchi," yet I could not help but let a tear slip down the side of my face, let the gaze of this observant Shadow notice my anguish although I had wiped that clear, falsely smiling to my _lover_ as he threw me a glance over his shoulder on our way out.

I had felt maybe what they had called a slight happiness. A brief relief. No matter how trivial that was.

That was the only chance I had.

The only words I could convey.

Thrown to one of very few people I trusted. I hope he did catch my whispered plea. I pray he had, desperately, am hoping he had heeded me.

"Kurokocchi...please..."

Or will they also fall to deaf ears as they did with _him_?

" _Save me_..."


End file.
